


Is Everything Just Right

by hdarchive



Category: Glee
Genre: Anal, Angst, Barebacking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always thought they were meant to be together. But they were meant to be apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is Everything Just Right

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is running with the idea that Kurt and Blaine broke up after season five, moved to Ohio, and became rival glee club teachers. Other than that, it is entirely spoiler/negativity/karofsky free. This was also a large interpretation of my love for klaine, and writing this meant a lot to me.

This isn’t where he thought he’d be, two years after graduation. But he’d be lying if he said he never actually dreamed about this.

Whiteboard marker in hand, the entire choir room all his, and now he gets to pick the songs. He makes the choices.

Well, Rachel does, technically. But years of knowing her and Kurt’s learned how to work around her and get his way, for the most part.

The choir room is empty, chairs neatly lined up, waiting for tomorrow when all the new kids will come stumbling in with excitement and joy and Kurt can’t believe he gets to repeat this process again -

So it’s not where he thought he’d be, but he’s here and he can’t exactly leave, and maybe he doesn’t really want to.

Kurt steps back to get a full view of the whiteboard, each song choice written in precise lines, feeling oddly proud. Rachel will come in and erase everything most likely, but for now this is his.

Footsteps sound through the halls, and Kurt quickly looks at his watch, knowing he’s spent too long here and that a normal human being wouldn’t be this excited and that the janitor is likely to kick him out soon -

The door opens, and Kurt doesn’t look up as he says, “I know, I know, I’m leaving. But don’t mess up the seating arrangement when you’re cleaning, please. That’s all I ask.”

He turns towards the piano, fingers dancing over the papers he’s left there.

“Kurt.”

His fingers still, his heart stills, his entire mind and body and soul stills -

Fear, panic, every bad feeling in the world charges into his bones, and it takes him a few tries before he can actually breathe.

Kurt turns around, lips pressing tight, keeping his gaze on the ground. He’s strong enough, he has to be, he’s survived through worse when it comes to Blaine.

“What are you doing here?” Kurt asks, voice clear and full, despite how just seeing him feels like a kick to the stomach.

Blaine stands in front of him and he looks perfectly fine - like the world wasn’t rocked and flipped upside down and torn apart -

He even smiles at him, uneasy and small, but Kurt’s still scrambling for purchase and he can’t wrap his mind around _how_ he can do it.

“Oh,” Blaine says, shaking his head and blinking his eyes before pointing his thumb at the door. “Rachel asked me to meet her.”

Not scared, not panicked, he isn’t and he won’t be - he has every right to be strong and defensive and he won’t break in front of him anymore, he’s done breaking -

Kurt wipes his hands on his pants, nods his head and breathes and stands like he’s never been hurt before.

“Well, Rachel clearly isn’t here,” Kurt says, voice high and scratchy in his throat. “Maybe it’s best you leave.”

Blaine steps forward, and it seems the closer he is the more it aches. “Kurt.”

He can’t back away, nowhere else to run, so he turns his head and closes his eyes. “Blaine. _Go_.”

Blaine sighs, and Kurt keeps his eyes closed until his footsteps start and then disappear, the door closing.

Every ounce of strength disintegrates, sand slipping through his fingers and _fallingfallingfalling_. He has to remember - breathe, breathe, you know how to breathe, you did it before him and you can do it after -

His head is jerked back up when the door flies open, Blaine stomping in, a fire to his eyes that Kurt hasn’t seen in a while. Blaine’s eyebrows are drawn together, entire face pointed and angry and stealing the breath that Kurt was working so hard on right out of his lungs.

“No, you know what?” Blaine shouts, arms up and flailing in the air. “This isn’t just your choir room _or_ your school. I went here, too. I’m not leaving.”

And that’s all it takes for Kurt to remember everything. How to breathe, how to survive, how to exist without him - reminding him why he’s better off now.

Kurt grips the edge of the piano, back pressing so far into it he’s going to break his spine, watching as Blaine marches over to a chair and flops down on it, arms folded and mouth pulled into a frown.

Words form and fall from his lips, mind spluttering and failing and falling, he doesn’t know what to do - anger and betrayal are spiked in his chest and he _doesn’t know what to do_ -

Shaking his head, Kurt turns back around and madly shuffles his papers, out of order and wrong but he doesn’t care -

“Thank you. Thank you _so_ much for reminding me for the umpteenth time why this was a good idea in the first place,” he spits, face heated.

“You’re certainly welcome,” Blaine sneers back.

“You’re an impossible child -”

Papers scatter around, landing on the floor, his heart and mind racing too fast to process picking them up.

“ _Or_ , I’m a mature adult who isn’t going to let a personal difference interfere with somebody’s education.”

He rolls his eyes so hard he thinks he rips something, glare pointed to the ceiling and his lungs rattling with venomous breath.

“Speaking of which,” Kurt snaps, folding his arms and daring a chance to look at Blaine. “Running around in a blazer doesn’t make you a Warbler again. It’s bordering on creepy.”

Blaine sits up in his seat, and Kurt’s never seen his eyes go that wide - and if you look close enough you can see his anger growing dark red -

“ _Speaking of which_ \- we’re going to slaughter you at Sectionals.”

Kurt _laughs_ , full of spite, and he uncrosses his arms to hold a hand up to Blaine.

“No, no, first of all, we’re not in high school any more. We’re adults here, this isn’t about slaughtering,” he says, voice lined with fire. “And second of all, _The Hipsters_ have a better chance of beating us - and most of them are dead.”

Blaine’s eyes twitch, veins expanding and exploding, eyebrows so far up Kurt’s surprised they haven’t disappeared -

His voice is lowered as he says, appalled, “You’re going to eat those words.”

He's running on poisonous fuel that’s close to burning out, and he spits, " _You'll have to make me_."

Heels click against the ground, Rachel’s humming echoing as she steps into the room, shouting, “Good afternoon, boys!”

But Kurt can’t look away from Blaine as long as he’s still looking at Kurt.

Rachel stops in the middle of the room, folder clutched to her chest, eyes wide as she switches them back and forth. “Oh.”

“Rachel.” Kurt says, fuel running out and his voice sounding empty.

And Blaine sits there and looks like he’s been shot but he can’t quite process it.

Your heart gets broken, your life gets unravelled, and it changes everything. You can try to move on but -

This isn’t where he thought he’d be.

He thought he’d be with him.

Kurt forcibly looks at Rachel, gives her a grim smile before quickly fetching whatever papers he can. He doesn’t look back at Blaine. And he leaves.

-

Wiping the slate clean, every morning Kurt wakes up and continues living. This is his life now, and it doesn’t matter what happened yesterday or the day before that.

Feeling hope and excitement because today is today and not yesterday - Kurt opens the door to the auditorium.

This is going to be hard and he isn’t sure how they even did it before but - they can do it again. It doesn’t matter if most of the new kids can’t dance to save their lives and Kurt can get over the fact that one of them actually asked him who Angela Lansbury is.

They can make it work and they can do it again.

Kurt drops his bag in the corner and walks along the stage, hearing the kids’ bubbling voices and feeling another rush of excitement -

He hopes Rachel’s already started warm up, these kids need every extra second -

But he has to stop, feet cemented to the ground, and the image he’s seeing hasn’t passed fully through his mind but he’s already choking on disbelief -

Of course he can’t just continue life as if nothing ever happened.

Blaine’s surrounded by kids, stepping right and then left and then spinning, smiling encouragingly when nobody can quite follow along -

Kurt blinks his eyes, closes them, hoping when he opens them that Blaine won’t actually be there, that this isn’t actually happening, that he’s not really decaying on the inside -

Then he searches for Rachel, who’s slowly approaching him. Her hands are behind her back, head dipped low, giving him a nervous smile - and she should be more than nervous how dare she _how dare she_ -

He marches over to her, each step louder and heavier than the last, and grabs her arm, pulling her to the side.

“ _Why is he here?_ ” Kurt hisses, glare as sharp as needles. “What part of competition do you not understand?”

Rachel - shrugs, bottom lip sticking out as she casts her gaze to the side. “Simply put, we’ve come to a mutual conclusion that we don’t have to be enemies. Blaine and I have individual skills, we’re family, so why not help each other out?”

He woke up this morning and hoped today would be kinder, would be fair - and it’s another kick to the stomach, another press to the bruise.

“Rachel,” Kurt sighs, an ache forming behind his eyes, reaching up to rub at his forehead with two fingers. “We’re not family anymore.”

Saying the truth out loud . . he’s reminded himself enough, he doesn’t want to do it anymore -

“I understand, Kurt,” Rachel says, voice high and strung with stolen sympathy. “But - but you have history together in the arts, and you work well together! Can’t you just - try to get along? For the sake of the club?”

Every part of him wants to lock up, wrap himself in chains and jump into the nearest lake - but he folds his arms and keeps himself standing, eyes lowered on her.

“That’s incredibly selfish, Rachel. I hope you know that.”

“Is it?” Rachel asks, defiant gaze pinned on him. “That’s not the way I see it.”

She walks away and Kurt doesn’t know if he should hysterically laugh or hysterically cry.

No, what he really wants to do is run out the doors and never look back and coming here was a mistake, this shouldn’t be his life, he should get out -

But he’s not going to let Blaine win this. It’s his school and his club and his life and Blaine doesn’t get a say in it anymore.

His legs wobble as he walks over, trying not to crumble when Blaine catches sight of him, suddenly looking angry before continuing what he’s doing -

Standing in front him, Kurt raises himself tall and lifts his chin, refuses to melt under his gaze even though that’s what his body wants to do, and sneers with as much hatred as he can gather, “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re not the Warblers.”

Blaine spins, spins, steps side to side and spins, slowing only to ask, “What makes you think I don’t know that?”

Kurt laughs, bitter and dry, before focusing his eyes back on him. “The fact that you’re spinning around like an acapella _goon_ -”

Blaine stops, and it’s once he’s not dancing, once he’s up close, that Kurt suddenly feels a surge of unease - because he’s never seen him so deflated and grey before and -

_Stay focused and present and strong this is not your life anymore he is not yours you are not his -_

“I’m only trying to help you, Kurt.”

Kurt bites back, “We don’t need it.”

“Alright,” Blaine says, and smiles. He takes a step back, indicating to the floor with his arm. “Prove it.”

Sighing, Kurt shakes out his shoulders, rotating his neck before staring at the ceiling.

He doesn’t need help, he doesn’t need Blaine, he can do a silly, ridiculous spin -

Turning his body, bringing out his arms - he can feel Blaine’s stare, prickling at his skin - Kurt tries, the room whirling around him, and just when he’s about to stop and land one foot back on the ground -

Somebody shoves into him, knocking him off balance, an awkward arm jabbing his side - those damn new kids who apparently also don’t know the meaning of personal space -

He’s about to snap _watch_ _it_ but - hands are around his waist, careful fingers circling him and steadying him.

The first time they’ve touched since Kurt slid off his engagement ring, shaking as he placed it back in Blaine’s hand.

Kurt pulls himself away, creating a few feet of distance between them. He looks away, not at him never at him, and grinds his jaw, fixes his hair.

“This isn’t showing me much,” Blaine says, almost arrogantly, eyes glinting with - with amusement.

And that sets Kurt off, flicking every switch, or it could be that his heart’s kicked into overdrive all because Blaine touched him -

He twirls on one foot, again and again and he _gets it_ , before stomping his foot back on the ground, folding his arms over his chest and allowing himself to glare at Blaine.

Then Blaine smiles, and Kurt’s spent so long trying to forget how bright it is he’s left blinded.

“Very well,” he nods, smiling wider.

Kurt curls his hands into fists, digs his nails into his palms and physically represses the urge to shout, ignores the flutter in his chest.

Doesn’t think about how he felt grounded and complete for the first time in forever just seconds ago -

He pushes his hair back, rolls his shoulders and tilts his chin up. And with his voice not wavering, eyes calm and unmoving, he says, “Now, if you’re here to actually show us something valuable, please demonstrate.”

-

It’s a strange thing to feel.

Waiting in pure silence, the parking lot nearly empty, the sky black-blue overhead, with the dumpster he’s been tossed in more times than days he’s been alive just over there -

To know that nothing and nobody from this school can touch him again. He can stand and exist and not live in fear. If you told fifteen year old Kurt Hummel that things would get better, he’d laugh. Laugh and laugh and then cry -

Things did get better. They got amazing, life changing, world turning.

Unfortunately, sometimes those worlds turn the wrong way. And hearts break, love fractures, and you learn that growing up means some things just don’t work out.

He’s still trying to wrap his mind around the second part. It was so - _hard_. To go from knowing everything about a person and loving every single thing, to not being able to withstand the thought of it, to not being able to look at him without feeling the arteries in his heart being ripped out.

Just being in the same room was hard and maybe . .

Things don't work out. It was a mistake. To come home and keep living like things were fine, that the world was still going in the right direction, and he even thought - he thought maybe he could build himself strong enough to ignore the fracture, ignore the splitting pain. He could build himself up and live and be happy, because they ended things to do just that, didn’t they - ?

None of it is working.

The _not being love thing_ , the _being better off without_ thing. It isn’t working.

There’s got to be a life out there somewhere, where he is okay and fine. Hopefully in a few years he can look back and think _if you asked twenty year old Kurt Hummel this -_

It’s cold and he’s been waiting for nearly thirty minutes. Looking back, selling his car wasn’t the greatest decision, but he was entirely sure he’d be in New York for life. So he waits for his dad, who told him earlier it’d be a late night at the shop.

The school doors creak open, and maybe it’s instinct or maybe it’s being startled out of his thoughts but Kurt’s spine snaps straight, shoulders tense as he spins around.

_Be a monster, a bear, a serial killer, anything -_

Nerves tingle and pull, dropping the support in his spine and tearing at his gut, making him feel hollow and dizzy.

 _Anything other than Blaine -_ who walks out into the night, security lights reflecting off his face.

“You’re still here?” Blaine asks, frowning, pulling the zipper on his hoodie all the way up, gym bag swinging behind him.

Kurt breathes, shock-white as air escapes his lips, and bundles his arms closer to himself.

If he doesn’t look at him, he has a chance of making it out. Just another person that will pass by, leave his life like it’s nothing, that’s all this has to be. He’s the one making a big deal out of this, it doesn’t have to be anything more -

“No, you’re looking at a hologram,” he sighs, rolls his eyes, tries not to recoil when Blaine steps even closer.

And all he had to say was _yes_ and it could have been over - why can’t it just be over - ?

Blaine’s eyes trail over him before scanning the parking lot, back to him, and he looks so confused, lost, head tilting to the side, breath fast and clouded.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kurt nearly cries - _just be over_ \- and presses his forehead into his hand. “I’m waiting for my dad, alright? I’m fine. You can leave.”

But he doesn’t. Blaine shifts on one foot to the next, playing with the strap of his bag. He looks from Kurt to the sky, as if thinking of something to say and Kurt doesn’t understand why, there is nothing left.

Each passing second grows more tense until Blaine asks, sounding stilted, “So - is he still working hard?”

Kurt could laugh. He’d laugh if his lungs didn’t hurt so much already, holding in air and anger, trying not to bleed.

Instead he says, “Yes. _Of course_ \- not that it’s any of your concern.”

Blaine laughs, sounding more like a choke, and the green of his eyes is going to burn right through Kurt, he can feel it.

“Of course it’s my concern, Kurt,” Blaine says, almost urgently. “You and your dad are like family to -”

“Were,” Kurt interjects, hoping if he spits it loud enough he can shake off the spikes Blaine’s just shot at him. “We _were_.”

Something in the structure of Blaine seems to wobble, collapse, but then he’s standing taller, building himself higher. Watching him break - build. How does he do it?

Why can’t Kurt look away?

“Kurt -” Blaine starts, sighing, but not breaking.

How does one not break, that’s what Kurt wants to know. Do you have to be made of different ingredients? What’s the difference between him and Blaine, this is happening to both of them. A hole through the heart, bare fingers and empty hands, turning over in your sleep and realizing - you’re alone.

Kurt’s made of regret, of escape, of moving past -

Looking at Blaine and he sees -

Hope.

“We don’t need to act like enemies. I don’t - hate you. This doesn’t have to change everything else.”

And he’s everything Kurt’s not, everything Kurt had to let go of.

Looking to the ground, fingers digging into his sweater so hard he could tear holes, he mutters, “Well it can’t exactly be the same.”

Because it can’t.

“I never said -”

“Blaine.”

Stepping forward, drawing Kurt’s attention up, Blaine is so much closer, eyes wild and defensive and not breaking. With his voice so much louder in the clear of night, he says, “May I remind you that you’re the one who called it off? I’m just trying to get by.”

Words like stones, tossed into the pond and sinking, sinking, he can read every word and feel every word, the instructions to the foundation holding Blaine up, maybe.

_I’m just trying to get by._

Drawing his eyes to meet Blaine’s is like dragging a block of cement, but he has to. And Blaine quickly looks away, like he’s been caught off guard, like he can’t handle Kurt’s eyes on him.

Like Kurt _hurt_ him - and this was never about hurting each other. Protecting each other, protecting themselves, because they’re better apart but - he’s right, they were never once enemies.

“You’re right.” It’s like swallowing down thumbtacks, coughing them back up. “I - I can try to be . . less hostile.”

The words leave his lips and so does every bit of strength he has left, bones feeling brittle, heart deflating in his ribcage. But he’s already admitted defeat, he really can’t look any weaker to him.

“Just like that?” Blaine asks, uneasily.

How does he say this without saying that . . .

“Maybe I’m just trying to get by, too.”

Blaine smiles, surprised, but it lights up every feature on his face and it’d be impossible to look away. “Then I look forward to it.”

Years and years and some things never change, no matter how much you want them to; Kurt still wants to smile at him.

He hides it, look away, tries to sneer, “Have fun with that.”

Hesitating in his spot, Blaine looks to the keys now in his hand, to Kurt, back to the keys before nodding. “Well, goodnight then.”

Blaine steps away and relief doesn’t follow.

“Goodnight.”

Then Blaine leaves Kurt.

And Kurt doesn’t really want him to go.

-

There's nothing more depressing than stepping into your old bedroom and having to stare at the blank walls, be in the place where you spent years of your life dreaming about bigger things -

Living in memories you can't wash away.

So he sleeps, because he'll wake up and pretend the slate is clean. But memories -

Waking up, opening his eyes, and all he can see are the blank walls and the empty space and he remembers labelling everything before he moved, so afraid that he was going to lose Blaine -

You can't lose something that you'll have forever.

Fractured love will stay broken inside of him for the rest of his days, probably. That's what it feels like. If only he could go back in time and tell eighteen year old Kurt that. You'll never lose him -

Turning over in his bed and he already knows he's alone. He only wishes it weren't the first thing on his mind - just wipe the slate clean -

Kurt finds his phone, blinking sleepily at the blearing light.

The last text message he sent Blaine reads _Gonna be late. Don't wait up._

Because after you call off an engagement you really can't go back to normal -

He can't delete his number. He's been weak from the beginning.

Can't go back to normal but he can't just _go on_.

It's a bad idea. It's a bad idea but his thumb still moves and he still types the message.

_Are you going to be at practice tonight?_

It sounds innocent enough. And Kurt really does need to know - he isn't sure he can handle another unexpected blow to the chest if he walks in there not knowing -

Doesn't change the fact that he hopes the answer is yes.

Doesn't change the fact that he lays there waiting and waiting. It's eerily similar to how he felt when they first met, excitement bursting like bright gold stars in his chest, he finally had a _somebody_ -

_Yuppers. See you there._

Kurt smiles. Can't stop it, can't help it.

He never could.

-

Somewhere along the way, Kurt forgets that they're broken.

Or maybe he knows and he's being an idiot by ignoring it but he laughs when Blaine laughs, dances along to his every step - and somewhere along the way he does feel hope that this club could come together and that he's doing it all for a reason -

But if he stops moving, lets his heartbeat calm, he feels the sharp pull, the razor-edged reminder that they aren't one, they're two. Two broken, separate pieces.

Then he feels _stupid_ and weak, to give in to the pressure weighing down on his chest. You can't forget nights of fighting, of tearing each other down, and really, they've been sleeping alone a lot longer than they've been broken up - Blaine practically lived on the couch.

Kurt pulls himself away as the evening goes on, not meeting Blaine's smiles, his eyes, keeping himself contained and preserved because he's just better this way, they're better apart.

Practice ends, and Kurt has to lock up tonight. Rachel left an hour ago, some crazy idea that they should rehearse with the Warblers forming in her head, and honestly does she not understand _competition_ anymore - ?

He can feel Blaine's presence like ice against his skin, aware that he's still in the room as he cools down, stretching and bending his spine, touching his toes.

His face is red, flushed, hair disheveled and pushed back as he shakes out every limb, walking over to the corner where he left his bag. His pulse isn't hammering anymore, but there's still a pounding in his ears, louder and louder - block it out block it out -

They're the only two left, every footstep of Blaine's sounding like a gunshot, every nerve in Kurt's body tuned to it, waiting.

Brings a water bottle to his lips, takes too many sips and gulps, gasps, Blaine won't look away and it's hard to be _apart_ when they're the only ones _there._

Eyeing him over the bottle, Kurt glares, scrounging around to latch onto any courage he has left, and spits, "Alright, there's no reason for you to be looking at me like that."

He could just be imagining things (things he wants to see), maybe there isn't any particular tint to Blaine's gaze, but there's a brush of electricity up his spine and he knows this feeling -

Blaine grins, the electricity jolting and zapping every bone, and says, "Come on, try and tell me with a straight face that you don't miss it."

Kurt almost bursts out laughing, closing his eyes, biting hard on his lip. It's easy to ignore the pain of a pulled-apart-raw heart when something so unbelievably comical strikes against it.

When the only thought you're capable of processing is _this isn't actually happening he didn't actually say that -_

"Blaine," Kurt says, amusement pulling at his lips. He shakes his head, takes another sip, and starts to pack his things up. "We're not teenagers anymore. We can't just - get each other off in the back of a car and then pretend we don't have feelings for each other."

Blaine's face falls, Kurt's smile drops, and they both look up at each other, Kurt back pedaling like mad in his mind, trying to figure out what he said to make everything stop so suddenly -

"You - what?"

Kurt shakes his head, turns around and picks up his bag, fishes for the keys and hurries for the door. "No, I didn't - I didn't say anything."

Blaine quickly steps alongside him, blocking the entrance. And his eyes - panicked, wildfire, blazing and burning -

"I think you did," he whispers back, smoke and ash clouding his throat.

Kurt pushes past him, hitting the light switch and stepping into the hall, Blaine quickly following.

His mind is a maze, stuck inside and trying to find the exit, or maybe a puzzle with a few pieces missing and he's running out of time -

Can't block it out and _move on_ when it's happening now.

"We're going in circles here, Blaine. Just drop it." He's pleading, he's almost begging, stop and go and leave because I can't -

Blaine exhales, loud and heavy in the empty halls. "Fine."

Walking out of the school, together but alone, and Kurt suddenly misses his voice, wonders what he's thinking, he's an entire world away. But he lost the right to know him when he left him, and Blaine lost the right to Kurt when he broke him -

When they broke each other. Right. There's a reason for this. Better off better off better off -

"You are right," Blaine says, pushing the school doors open until the chilled night air surrounds them. "It's different now. It'd be more than just bros helping bros, we were engaged -"

If one word could be a knife - if one feeling could kill you -

"Where are you going with this?" Kurt asks, pulling his arms close, clenching his jaw to keep from chattering.

"I'm saying that, in the meantime, while we find our footing - which we will - if you miss it as much as I do, then you know where to find me."

His smile comes easy, he doesn't repress his laugh, only hangs his head and fills his lungs with air he so desperately needs.

This could be - this could be a clean slate. They don't have to be enemies, they just have to be apart, and if being apart is as easy as it feels right now - he can do it, right?

Nervous glances, shy smiles, not entirely able to settle on each other anymore, and Blaine slowly asks, "Is your dad picking you up?"

Kurt nods, turning away to scan the parking lot. "Mhm, whenever he gets off work, that is."

Blaine rocks back and forth on his heels, mouth pushed together and he's humming, drawing Kurt back, making him look.

"Okay, so this might sound a little crazy, but I could always give you a ride," he says, nowhere to hide his grin.

Kurt narrows his eyes, feels his stomach twist. "You could."

"If you want one."

"I don't know . ."

Blaine steps closer, and Kurt almost feels - like the world gets a little more clearer, like breathing gets a little bit easier -

"It's just a car ride," Blaine drawls, swallowing, and there's nothing nervous about the look to his eyes now.

Hand shaking, body cold as he pulls his arms away from himself, Kurt reaches out and pokes Blaine's side, edge of his lips twitching with how bad he wants to smile and _never stop smiling_. "Knowing you, however . ."

Blaine pokes him back, asking, slowly and - almost scared, "And what does that mean?"

His hand doesn't move, fingers splaying out, travelling over Kurt's side. It's almost a shock - not the fact that he's touching him, but that Blaine ever let him go.

"Blaine -"

Being apart is a good idea . . .

He needs something to ground him, bring him back down to earth, the planet they exist on, bring him back to the universe they exist in - and not whatever imaginary heaven this is -

He fumbles with the edge of Blaine's hoodie, cold fingers trembling as he thumbs at the zipper.

Being apart is sounding less and less logical. Blaine's knee nudges Kurt's, and whatever he's thinking, whatever crazy ideas are going through his head, that's the plan Kurt really wants to follow.

What does he even say, what is he even doing? Doesn't want to say _no_ , that he knows for a fact.

"This is - this is crazy," he babbles, blinking at the ground.

Laughing, nodding, Blaine leans in even more, breathes, "That it is."

Even crazier -

A thousand different colours, shades of green gold purple pink blue but still looking familiar, because Blaine is familiar -

Blaine leans in and kisses him.

Hesitant brush of lips, as if Blaine's afraid of being shocked, or - or _repelled._

Kurt melts into it, no other choice, no fight or resistance because did he ever really have fight or resistance - ?

Feeling complete, whole, like the piece of him that got ripped out when he took off his ring has somehow connected back to him.

That's all it takes, a few seconds before they're landing back on track and gaining speed. Lips press harder, more desperate, needing more, and Blaine's hand hasn't let go of him yet, curls tighter and yanks him closer.

They should say something, to clarify what they're doing and why. But maybe Kurt knows the reason and maybe he wants to hold onto it for a little while longer. If he didn't know the reason his heart wouldn't be ricocheting around his ribcage, back and forth.

Blaine gently pushes Kurt, keys jingling in his hand, guiding him to his car and quickly unlocking the door before opening it for Kurt, smiling, and then moving around to his own side.

Being apart and now he doesn't want to be without him for a second - stupid idea, so dumb, what were they thinking, _apart?_ \- and they find each other easily.

Blaine's hands feel so right cupping his jaw. The way his heart _jumps_ should feel scary but it never has. A kiss to his cheek, forehead, nose, Blaine touching him everywhere -

Pulling away, short of breath and heaving and burning with so much want, Kurt can see his eyes. And he almost forgot their colour and being apart was the stupidest thought to ever run through his mind.

"See?" Kurt gasps, leaning into Blaine's hand. "This is what I meant - this was going to happen -"

"And I am not complaining," Blaine laughs, voice strung high and sweet. "Hasn't this car served us well?"

Could be moving too fast, probably should slow down, definitely shouldn't be doing this -

But then Blaine's lips find his neck and it's over, all over. Mouthing at his skin, sucking and kissing, and something in Kurt breaks free, away from the concrete case he's been holding himself in since this began.

Tucked into Kurt's neck, hardly able to even breathe, Blaine chokes out, "- all I can think about sometimes."

Shivering, electricity running hot but ice-cold, Kurt tilts his chin up and murmurs, "Yeah?"

Mind and heart are clashing together, singing one name and one phrase, but he's listening to him, he can hear him, moving with him like he's meant to.

"Having to watch you and - just - not have you."

"Blaine."

Foreheads together, noses brushing and breath hot on each other's lips. "It's hard, Kurt, so hard. Not getting to hug you or kiss you or - fall asleep next to you -"

Blaine sounds like he's bordering on panic, pushing against him and pulling him closer.

He still only has one word to say; " _Blaine._ "

"And the way you feel -"

Muscles feel like liquid, bones feel like steel, and he doesn't know what to do except to shake and shiver and pull away. His eyes water, burning, because it _hurts_. "Blaine, I -"

It hurts because - they're doing this for their own good. Going their separate ways, because if they went together they'd never make it. Knowing it's for the better and still bleeding with how bad they miss each other -

Blaine pushes Kurt back by the shoulders, places a hand on his thigh, and rubs his thumb back and forth. His voice is pitched low, dark, mumbling even darker words into the space between them, "Try to remember - try to - how it used to be -"

He doesn't know where Blaine's mind is, what dark corner he's searching through, but he's been living in memories lately, too.

The hand on his thigh grips harder, his muscles clenching, need beginning to pour into his gut and he's going to drown from the inside out -

Blaine's mouth is against his ear, every breath sending shocks down the column of his spine.

Words stripped raw, Blaine whispers, "It could be like that, even just for tonight -"

Kurt's insides feel like they're being pulled - twisting tight and hot -

He whines, high in his throat, feeling any last thought of rationality slip from his brain. "This isn't happening," he breathes, just barely, vision going red.

One of Blaine's hands catches the side of his face, Kurt turning into it, and Blaine says, " _You wanted it so bad_."

Kurt claws at Blaine's hoodie, needs closer and more and him, always him.

Two voices lost in one another, two people lost in love, it's a mess but it's a mess he'll navigate through if he can just get to him.

“Blaine -" Kurt shakes and he can't breathe he can't breathe. "Can we please - are your parents home?"

Eyes heavy, shadowed, Blaine nods, already scrambling for his keys. "Yeah - yes - I mean no, they're not home. Did you want to -"

This feels entirely like high school, and oh - they're adults, who were engaged and then not engaged, in love and then in shattered love, but -

His heart thumps, not panicked or crazed, just - normal. The way it's supposed to. The way it hasn't since they broke.

How are they ever going to be apart - ?

-

Blaine holds his hand when they're out of the car, up the steps, grips it tighter as he unlocks the front door.

Doesn't let Kurt go as they take off their shoes, thumb swiping and keeping him close, and - it could almost feel the way it did back then. A sort of magic, a warmth maybe, that you can't scrub away -

"Can I get you something to drink?" Blaine asks, eyes bright, finally releasing his hand to indicate towards the kitchen.

His face burns, red, and he can't look at him, says almost shyly, "Blaine . ."

This isn't then. It's now, and now is different.

"Right, uh -" And then Blaine's hand is around his again, but Kurt already knows where to go.

Stair after stair, anticipation or excitement or fear building quick in his stomach with every step, and Blaine must feel it too because he squeezes Kurt harder.

He stops, midstep, Blaine colliding into his back. Can't peel his eyes away from the wall, frames all lined up, and he doesn't know why it's such a surprise, it's been there forever - but why is it still there . . ?

Their last prom together, frizzy hair and all, close and unafraid and together, _proud_ to be together and the evidence is on the Anderson's walls -

Can almost hear the blood rush to Blaine's face, his hand damp and warm around Kurt's, quickly slipping away. "Still haven't taken it down, I guess - my mom says she misses you."

He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry or run out the door. Trampling down the nerves dancing up his spine, Kurt shakes back his shoulders and sputters out, "I, um, tell her I say hi - ?"

Out of everything, this shouldn't be the hardest part.

"Let's not talk about it," Blaine says, and his voice is clear, loud, a hand over a too-fast heart. "Come on."

He tugs Kurt hard, moves his hands to Kurt's hips and this - this is the difference between their then and their now.

Being in Blaine's room is being thrown head first into a sea of memories, bitter cold and overwhelming and you could so easily sink, but he doesn't have time to drown when those hands around his hips are shoving him back, hard against the door.

It's never been quite like this, never burned so bad in his lungs.

Blaine presses his body along Kurt's, holding the side of his face, Kurt immediately leaning into the kiss he knows is coming, because Blaine's moving against him like he'd die if he weren't close.

There's a line slashed between them, breaking every cable that once bound them, but it doesn't feel broken when Blaine's unzipping his hoodie, slipping it off his shoulders, hands sliding under his shirt and sprawling over his stomach.

He's not scared, despite the pins under his skin that say he should be. Never could be scared, not with him. Should be should be - Blaine can hurt him so easily, burn his heart like it's paper.

But the only time he's felt fear with him is when he finally realized they were broken, done.

So really, he's not scared _anymore_.

The entire world feels flipped right side up when his back hits the bed, when Blaine's chest lands over his and Blaine kisses him, tilting his chin up, head into the pillow and neither can breathe but neither care -

There's a voice in the back of Kurt's head - _tell him this is a one time thing, tell him it doesn't mean you love him or that you're back together._

Kurt's fingers clutch at Blaine's shirt, desperate to get it off and it's not off, why is he still wearing it -

"Easy," Blaine laughs, pulling away from Kurt to smile down at him. "We'll get there."

He can't stop from smiling back, breathless and red in the face but he feels like he's glowing - "I'd like to get there this century, if you don't mind -"

Rolling his eyes, Blaine leans back and pulls his shirt over his head.

And Kurt knows every line, every hair, every piece of him - he has it memorized, sees him when he closes his eyes, he could never just forget him -

Stupid to think he could try -

_Tell him._

It's in every kiss. It's how Blaine holds the side of his face, refusing to let go, needing him closer even though their lips are pressed tight.

Blaine already knows.

But it's like with every piece of clothing removed, stripped down and discarded, they both forget.

Because with Blaine's body - heavy and hot and nothing holding him back - pressing and pushing Kurt down, the rest of Kurt breaks free. Concrete splitting and cracking, and that voice in the back of his head gets buried in the rubble.

Kurt turns his head, inhaling deeply because he's not sure if he'll ever exhale again, overwhelmed when Blaine's cock grinds over his leg. His stomach twists, painful and tight, god he wants so much -

His skin feels warm all over, electrifying were Blaine connects with him, and his heart feels lighter than it's ever been - but that only means it's falling.

"I'm - Blaine, can we - ?" Kurt asks, pushing at Blaine's shoulder with a weak hand.

Blaine pulls back, eyes blinking and heavy, staring at Kurt like he's out of focus before something finally clicks. "Oh - yeah, yeah, okay - um, condoms -"

His mind hasn't been right since - ever. Since they split, since they became separate. And he doesn't want to be separate anymore. Never again, not from him -

Kurt grabs Blaine's wrist, fingers curling tight, pulling him back to the bed. "No. Don't."

All he can hear is Blaine's shaking breath, almost feeling his thunderous pulse where he's holding his wrist, and all he can see are his eyes. Scared in a way they've never been, warm in a way they always have.

Voice like smashed glass, throat bleeding, Blaine says, "Kurt, are you - please be sure -"

Kurt realizes then just how hard he's shaking, no concrete to hold him down, and so he says with finality, "We don't need one."

They’re stupid, stupid and dumb and crazy but it feels right -

Ever since they met, when Blaine put his hand in Kurt's - his touch has brought a calm to the rest of the shaking world. Even now, with Kurt's pulse leaping and soaring and freezing every other second, Blaine touches him and the spinning room stops.

And maybe that's why sex is not just sex, no matter how many times Kurt says it, how many times he screams it from his lungs.

It's really, in a way, maybe - getting to say _I love you_ with his lips, with his fingers, his touch. It's hearing it right back when Blaine kisses him, slow and lazy and distracting as he slides a hand between Kurt's legs, pushing in where he's sensitive and open for him -

Maybe it's just the fact that there is no one else - there is no other love that can be like -

Together or apart it's not sex it's love and he can't change what's been written in permanent marker.

The world gets fuzzy, grey, when Blaine pulls back, a pained look across his face as he scans his eyes up and down Kurt's body. "Can you turn over?"

It shouldn't feel like disappointment - but it does. He still turns onto his knees, feeling a tug to his gut that drags him down, lowering himself to the bed for Blaine because he trusts Blaine and he wants Blaine and if Blaine can't look at him - he gets it -

Shaking with his weight on his arms, he can't see what Blaine's doing, not sure until he feels Blaine's hand covering his hip, gently squeezing, almost soothingly - before he feels the head of Blaine's cock pushing at his rim.

His mind turns white, blank, eyes sliding shut as he chokes on his breath and gasps. No barrier, no protection, just Blaine's body in his -

It's a lot, too much, everything he wanted but doubled and while Blaine's stretching him he fights for air, deep breathes in and out. Focuses on Blaine's free hand, the one clutching harder and harder at his hip, and there'll probably be bruises but right now he's thankful -

"Good?" Blaine asks, voice shot through and low, lips over Kurt's spine.

Kurt sucks in a breath, and it comes natural, like he's meant to - he smiles and says, "Could be better."

Hot across his skin, Blaine laughs, and Kurt can feel it - and he can't see his smile but he can imagine it.

Sounding more clear, amused, Blaine tries again, "Are _you_ good?"

He shouldn't be good. This shouldn't feel so right.

" _Keep - going_."

Blaine thrusts forward and it's too much it's too much but he doesn't want him to stop - every slide of Blaine inside of him ignites something deep and dormant, setting it off and bursting into flames of glittering gold.

Pressure builds and builds, Blaine leaning further over his back, and his thrusts are short, quick, never pulling out far. This he can handle, this he can do, always feeling _full_ and still connected, he can handle this -

Messy kisses are pressed to his back, Blaine's mouth hot, sucking over certain spots. And they all feel familiar, like Kurt knows exactly where the next one will land, a calming pattern they've done before -

Blaine peels himself away from Kurt's back, hands traveling down his sides before both hips are covered, fingers curled tight.

Seconds pass and the element of surprise is quickly morphing into panic - but he can feel it in Blaine's fingertips, his harsh grip, just how much he's holding back -

Sliding out, ridge of his cock catching on Kurt's hole, and it's a drop on a roller coaster he knows what's coming next - Blaine pushes back in, one smooth thrust, unyielding and fast and hard and hitting him deep -

Kurt tries to focus on Blaine's hands, but the pressure is close to snapping, lungs close to puncturing, it feels like being electrically charged every time Blaine slides in.

He tries to keep his voice contained, his thoughts bottled up, but he has to cry out when Blaine presses in deep, hard, jerking Kurt's entire body forward so hard he wobbles on his hands.

It's been so long, that's it. He can handle a lot more but his body has gone so long without Blaine it doesn't know what to do now -

He doesn't see white anymore, he sees pure black skies with millions of stars, all burning up inside of him as Blaine's cock pulses in him, feeling so much closer now.

Stretching out his left hand, curling his fingers into the pillow, Kurt tucks his face into his other elbow and mutes his cries, streaming endlessly out of his mouth.

" _Blaineblaineblaine_ -" he chants, mind muddled and lost, not meaning anything, really, just what he needs to say.

Stars are going to explode, implode, self destruct and die - too much too much - and his hand in the pillow starts to shake, clawing at the material for purchase, something to keep him down -

Blaine covers him. Warm and strong and placing his palm over his hand, chest to his back.

Like a magnet clinging to metal, like a lock clicking in place, Blaine's fingers slot through his, strung tight together.

Through every thrust Kurt holds onto him tighter, needing his hand like a lifeline.

He doesn't understand though, why Blaine keeps trying to let go - fingers slipping out only to slide back into place, holding him then letting him go, running the tip of one finger over each of Kurt's -

His hips stop pumping forward, rhythm stuttering off and on, before he finally stills completely.

Then it's like the whole world stops moving.

Kurt tries to breathe into his elbow, feeling and waiting for Blaine to move or say something, confusion filling his head like a fog.

The hold on his hand tightens, Blaine squeezing him, his grip the loudest and strongest thing he's ever felt, all he can really feel -

He feels Blaine move, hooking one finger around Kurt's ring finger, the entire universe melted down into these two points of connection -

In the dark of the room the whole world and the universe quiets.

And breathing wrecked, voice torn, Blaine whispers, "I don't want to be apart anymore."

But the universe doesn't spark to life then. There is no uproar, no chaos in the streets, nothing explodes in his mind.

Nobody moves or breathes.

Maybe they died - but they can't be dead, because quickly and rapidly developing, Kurt feels a gunshot of pain blasting through his chest - again and again and it's worse every time -

He doesn't say anything back. He can't. He'd have to lie. And he can't tell the truth, he has to be strong enough to keep the truth contained until it bleeds into something else.

So Kurt lays there and swallows back every word that tries to come forth, blinks back acid tears, and even though he's clutching at Blaine's hand, fingers wrapped around fingers, his hand has never felt so empty.

He lied. He is scared. He's never been so scared.

Soon it will be over, as if it never began. That's the way it has to go. Because even now, not fighting or poisoning each other, they're still hurting each other -

It's not until he's being pushed forward into the bed that he realizes Blaine started again, his thrusts relentless and quick and impatient, Kurt clenching tight around him, almost instinctively.

All he can feel is that gunshot, so he hardly even realizes as they come together, Blaine knowing exactly how to work Kurt, an instrument only he can play.

At some point during the night he thought it'd feel good. It doesn't.

Feels even worse as Blaine pulls out, away, apart - landing next to him on the bed, silent save for his breathing, which is so erratic Kurt can't keep up.

He has no clue what to say or do. He never planned this out. Maybe, secretly, he thought something would change -

And they did.

He has to be strong, and maybe not just for himself - he can't hurt Blaine anymore with the things he can't say. Kurt turns onto his side, every body part feeling shaken and weak, and guides his eyes until he's looking into Blaine's.

What does he say -

His eyes burn from holding everything in, watering over because he can't do it anymore.

Blaine looks like he's made of stone, marble, holding himself like a statue. Kurt has never seen him look so strong - and he has never felt so weak.

"You have to go."

It's voiced like a question, a question Blaine already knows the answer to.

Because _that_ is the difference between their then and their now. Damage can leave you hopeless.

His throat hurts, voice scratching as he says back, " I-I should."

I should never have been here.

How is he going to wake up tomorrow and try to forget this - ?

How is it possible to break a broken thing even more -

"Can you get home okay?" Blaine asks, and Kurt can hear the catch of every word.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. This isn't - none of this feels right -

It did just moments ago, with Blaine's hand over his.

Kurt falters, eyes closing, licking over his lips as he grasps for words. ". . I can call Rachel."

Eyes still closed, Kurt pictures the Blaine of before. The Blaine of earlier tonight, who seemed like he wasn't taking any of this seriously, like he knew everything would be okay - and what changed?

Blaine nods, shutting his own eyes, then he's rolling over. And Kurt has to watch as he hangs his legs over the side of the bed, head dropping into his hands.

Part of him - all of him - is screaming _what are you doing, don't let him give up -_

Don't give up.

Don't be apart.

Neither of you want this.

But Kurt knows it's for the better. And maybe that's what changed - maybe Blaine realized too.

If they were meant to be together, wouldn't things work out?

-

He woke up the next day and he couldn't wipe the slate clean. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

It's like that one night didn't just destroy things - it injured him. And now he has internal bleeding and he's getting weaker and weaker -

What's even the point of waking up tomorrow when it's all going to be the same? Days mixing with days, all equally muddled, all equally empty. He can't even stomach the thought of tomorrow -

But maybe he doesn't need to wake up and start over. That's not working out. Maybe it's not starting over - no - maybe it's - taking the rubble, the broken pieces, the shattered glass -

And making something different. Something better.

They don't need to be in love. Blaine was right, they were never enemies. They can be friends. It's not fair to either of them to have to carry around what's been broken.

He is strong enough for this. He knows that.

It's been ages since he's been to Dalton. Hasn't visited since he was here with Blaine. Blaine and all the rest of the world.

But still only Blaine. And a question with only one answer.

It's more than the proposal that he holds to this place. It's really - it's their foundation. Where they were built from. So it only feels right to meet Blaine here.

Walking through the halls, he doesn't recognize any faces but he sees places and spaces where he and Blaine have stood, laughing and in love without really knowing they were in love.

He finds Blaine in the outside courtyard. Trees are beginning to lose their leaves, the sun is autumn gold, the air has a slight chill to it but Blaine's never cared about the weather -

Papers are spread out in front of him, lunch box opened, all of Blaine's attention pinned to the book in his hand.

He's strong enough, yes - he just needs to be brave enough -

"Hi," he says, voice quiet and thin.

Blaine turns, eyes wide and back straight - he almost expects Blaine to snap, yell, turn on him and run away - but he grins, bright and delighted, like nothing bad has ever happened to him.

"Kurt, hi -" Blaine sputters, coughing slightly as he puts his juice box down. "What are you doing out here?"

He planned out a million conversations in his head on his way over. Now he has nothing.

Shrugging, looking to the ground and smiling, Kurt says. "Oh, just spying on the competition."

Blaine laughs, shooting warmth in every direction, making Kurt's smile curve deeper. A laugh that could erase pain and instead paint pictures -

"Well you're doing a great job."

This is easy, this is okay, if they can just keep this up -

Kurt slowly walks towards the table Blaine's sitting at, sits down next to him with his legs facing outwards. It's almost amazing that you could be so close with a person one night and then not be able to sit near them another -

Silence settles, Kurt coughing and clearing his throat, nervously drumming his fingers along his thighs.

Blaine whistles, shuffling papers around, before he's turning to face Kurt, asking, "Since you're here, mind if I run some things by you?"

And he makes it look so easy - forgetting and restarting - how does he do it - ?

Scrunching his nose, looking away and giving a helpless shrug, Kurt mumbles, "I try to leave fraternizing with the enemy to Rachel."

Blaine hums, moving around so he's sitting in the same direction as Kurt. "Fair enough, I'll ask her."

Kurt swallows, blinks and blinks and drums his fingers and looks at him and looks away - catching his eyes and his smile -

He's not strong enough he's not he's unraveling -

Not strong enough to hold himself tall, but still not strong enough to stop from saying, voice splintering, "I'm scared, Blaine."

Tears burn instantly, his lungs caving in and his heart turning in circles -

His eyes are closed, he can't see Blaine, can only feel as he slides along the bench, closer and closer, and he's not strong enough to move away, either -

"What? There's nothing - Kurt there's nothing to be -"

Can't stop, heart broken open and blood can't stop pouring.

"I-I wake up every day and I tell myself I have to move on - but I can't imagine another day without you."

Not seeing not seeing and when Blaine puts a hand over his, he starts to shake, break, _sob_.

Throat in shreds with every ounce of hurt he's holding back, Kurt continues, "But we have to."

So what if he spends the rest of his life without him? Day after day of meeting people and more people, looking into their eyes and looking for Blaine -

It's better than having the one you love tear out your heart every single night - wanting to tear out theirs.

But days of having to know that nobody will ever compare.

The sun can shine but the clouds will be grey because they are not Blaine. The choirs can sing but Kurt will hear nothing because they are not Blaine.

Is that why every time they fail, they find their way back together?

Because there is no other each other.

But if they were meant to work out, they would . .

Inhaling through his nose, breathing out shakily, Kurt rolls his shoulders back and lifts his chin, opens his eyes, and looks at Blaine.

His throat closes up, the air is bitter now against his tear-stained face, but he makes himself say, "Sometimes - I wish I never met you."

Blaine squeezes his hand so tight he could break bones. Fingers flexing and unflexing and Blaine is _shaking_.

"You don't mean that," Blaine says, lip wavering and every word cracking.

They can break each other so easily -

"Then it wouldn't be so hard -"

"Kurt -"

He doesn't stop, every word of pain he's kept bottled up leaking out, but if he doesn't say it now he'll lose more than his courage.

"And then I feel like - like I've failed myself. I could do so much on my own - I'd be happier eventually, right?"

"I'd never stop you."

"And admitting - admitting that I still love you -" He's yelling, chest heaving, digging into bullet wounds to scratch out the truth and it hurts more than anything. "I'm pretending to be strong but I'm so weak."

"You don't sound weak to me."

Eyes shutting tight, tighter, his crying is so ugly and tainted he sounds pathetic but holding it in sounds even worse -

"I don't know what to do."

Trembling hand over trembling hand, nobody says a thing. Kurt has to listen to himself cry and cry and bleed and bleed until suddenly - the hand over his stops.

Turning it over, palm up, Blaine slides his hand into Kurt's and locks their fingers and doesn't let go.

Through tearful vision, Kurt makes himself look up, neck and spine loaded with lead. He misses the days where it didn't hurt to look at the person he loved -

And the only thing that hurts now is - Blaine's smile -

Sniffling, clearing his throat and wetting his lips, Blaine looks around the courtyard - and he's so good with words, a talent Kurt will always remain envious of - and thinks, then says, "If I never met you . . Well, besides the obvious, I'd also be missing out on all these memories. And Kurt - that's what I think about before I go to sleep. What I think about pretty much every waking moment of my life, really, and I know I'm going to meet thousands of people but I won't have memories like ours with them."

With every word he feels - calmer, tears drying, mind speeding up to try and latch and hold onto everything Blaine is saying -

"I don't think of the bad things if I don't have to. I'd fight with you for a thousand nights to have one more good memory."

He breathes, breathes, wipes at his eyes, and when Blaine curls his hand around Kurt's again - it doesn't hurt.

Broken and breaking, his voice scrapes as he whispers, "But that's not fair. To either of us."

Blaine nods, smiles easily and his skin feels so right and so alive where he's touching Kurt.

"It's not fair to either of us to spend the next seventy years of our lives wishing we had at least tried to make it work."

Just when you think you're done being torn apart -

Kurt drops his forehead to Blaine's shoulder and let's himself shake, lets himself feel weak because he knows he's not - but Blaine is so strong -

He really loves him he really does but if they were meant to be . .

"So maybe I'm scared too, Kurt."

Kurt swallows, lifting his head to look him in the eye, and rasps, "Scared?"

Blaine looks back, and Kurt isn't sure who he's looking at - the Blaine of today or the Blaine of a few years ago.

He loves them both -

"Because I can't make up your decisions, Kurt. I don't know how I'm going to spend the rest of my life anymore," Blaine explains, loose smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I can only hope, right?"

Before Kurt thought that this damage left Blaine hopeless.

Wrong, so wrong -

It leaves you waiting, waiting for the sign of safety that you can start hoping again.

I'd spend two thousand nights fighting if it meant getting it right with you.

There's nobody else out there who I'd rather get it right with.

If only he really knew how, how to wipe the slate clean and start over. The way Blaine seems to do so effortlessly -

How to swallow down the denial you've been clenching in your jaw, how to let go, how to start again -

They both jump when a bell rings, heart beats escalating as the school seems to come to life, familiar blue and red filling the courtyard, making Kurt remember where they are.

He doesn't feel weak when he thinks it, doesn't even care if he feels strong because it feels so right.

"I wouldn't be weak," he says, slowly, turning his head to look away from the courtyard.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, smiling curiously.

"If I tried?"

Nobody who tries is ever called weak.

A life of thinking _well, maybe I'll be better tomorrow_ is not for him. No waiting and wishing that the day after will get better, will change things. He can change them now.

There's a difference between heartbreak and fractured love. Fractured doesn't have to be permanent, with a bit of care and some time. And shattered glass can cut but cuts can heal.

And they can learn to be careful, they can learn to not break things.

Because unbroken, this love is - there is nothing like it -

"Kurt, wait - are you saying . . ?" There's excitement lined in Blaine's voice, a tone Kurt thought had gone extinct, and his smile is so contagious

Not once in his life has he had to start over. He rises from trauma and keeps - going. He's not back here in Ohio to _start over_ -

Making it better. Getting it right.

Blaine's staring at him, grin brighter than all the stars, looking so hopeful it hurts. And Kurt smiles back, just as hopeful, and asks, nervously, "Do you think we could do it?"

Their knees bump each other, hands not clutching so desperately, and they look out at the courtyard again. Years of memories, good and bad, and he's not saying he wants to forget any of them - he wants to build from them.

The warning bell rings. Two students run past them, laughing and out of breath, their footsteps echoing off the ground until they're gone. Blaine's knee bumps his again, making Kurt look up at him, and his eyes are so new and so familiar, and his smile is a smile he's surely seen before but still exciting -

And Blaine says, "I think so."


End file.
